Notebook

One day I’ll forget all this, so that is why I write. The elusive phases of self, the states which prefer to be left behind. I’ll capture them in all their un-beauty like a fading note for future Me – ‘This is who you are. Sink into her.’ And maybe if I’m lucky I can pass these notes to a stranger existing altogether independently. We can meet through the capturing of past self, connect in some way intangible but sworn – the significant gift of the translated life.

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Notes from Sydney

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i know the end: our strange, spooky love